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Responsible man, responsible Dominants, did not take advantage of a woman when she was hurting the way Caera was. It was rude and inconsiderate and…fuck.
His pelvis surged up as a fingertip circled the eye of his dick. The head was far too fucking sensitive, having been neglected for so long, and the touch—her touch—nearly sent the all systems go message from brain to penis. Grinding his teeth, he managed to stave off the impending orgasm before he ejaculated into Atticus’s goddamn hot tub.
The little minx only seemed to be curious, her lips curving into a slight smile, but her eyes were observing his every move, every flinch. A student presented with a specimen to study and dissect for her own learning pleasure.
Saul found himself wanting to make that pretty mouth blush and swell with the passion of his kisses. He hissed out a breath as she wiggled backwards until she perched on his thighs in the turbulent water, apparently all the better to see and play with him.
“Are you trying to seduce me, little rabbit?” Christ, he sounded hoarse to his own ears.
“If you have to ask,” she whispered, “then maybe I’m not doing it right?”
Saul laughed, then strangled on a groan as she tentatively wrapped those damn fingers around him. He wasn’t the only one affected by this newfound intimacy—the depths of her eyes were blurred, much to his satisfaction—but he had to stand up and take charge before he lost all sense of propriety. “We’re not doing this tonight, Caera.”
“Why not? What more could happen? Everything I believed about myself is most likely a lie.” Her pupils blew wide as his traitorous cock flexed in her grasp, eager for more of her touch. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. This…well, it’s pretty surreal overall, but at least I can trust you.”
God, she was killing him.
There was a plan in place for Friday, one he was determined to execute down to the last letter on his to-do list. A plan where he would do everything in his power to create a romantic setting—candles flickering around the bedroom, wildflowers from the patch he’d found around the back of the cabin scattered on the bed, some sweet song from a playlist of romantic melodies whispering from the speakers in the corner of the room.
Wine—maybe. He wasn’t sure about that yet, not until he talked to her about her tolerance. No one but an asshole wanted his lover to be drunk when they had sex for the first time, in his opinion.
Consent was important, especially to the likes of Saul.
Slowly, he captured her hand, stopping her before she escalated from squeezing to jacking him off. “Yes, you can. Trust me to know that tonight is not our night, Caera. Trust me to make that decision for you.”
“Would you be upset if I…” Her nerves began to show. When she was caught up in the moment, she was as brazen as could be, but if he pulled her out of that mindset, she was back to being his shy bunny. “If I asked you some questions?”
She had more courage than he’d expected. She didn’t perceive rejection this time, which pleased him tremendously—chasing a wet, naked woman through the woods at this time of night would be absolute hell—but more surprisingly, she didn’t have a tantrum at being denied what was literally in her hands.
“You can ask any questions you like, whenever you like,” he replied seriously. There was a time for being light and nonchalant about sex, and then there was a time to be thoughtful. With her past so troubled and relatively unknown, treading carefully was essential to avoid potential triggers. “Ask whatever you need to.”
“Promise you won’t make fun of me?”
Definitely potentially triggers, he mused. “Solemn swear, little rabbit.”
She blew out a shuddering breath. “How big are you?”
Prepared to step on a landmine, he glanced down at the solid length of his dick, distorted beneath the water. “A bit more than average, I guess.”
“Average, that’s…that’s manageable, right?” Her hand twitched, jolting his orgasm a few steps closer. “But average isn’t a size.”
“Nine inches,” he admitted grudgingly.
Fuck, he loved her expressions. Right now, as the eyes he adored popped into wide, wide circles, she couldn’t be more innocent if the Pope baptized her in water from heaven. They dropped to his lap, then shot back up to his. “Okay, that’s more than I thought. Just need a second to process…” A trace of panic ripped through her, revealing itself as a vicious full-body shudder. “Shit. Shit, you’ll rip me apart—”
Dominant Saul to the rescue. Infuriated that she thought he would hurt her in that manner, he slid his free hand into her hair and gripped the wet strands firmly enough to elicit a gasp. He could hurt her in other ways, so many other ways she would enjoy, but never like that, never the first time.
His voice carried a hint of a snap, just enough to portray strength and confidence in them both. This was where she needed him to lead, and he needed her to trust. “Caera, we’re not there yet. When we are, you will be so wet, so fucking high on endorphins, I could be hung like a horse, and you wouldn’t care. Do you understand?”
She nodded slowly, the pulse in her throat visibly throbbing beneath pale skin.
“Ask another question,” he suggested, tugging her hand off his cock before she made him come like a hapless teenager. “One that won’t send you into a panic attack.”
Caera stared at him blankly, looking sweet enough that Saul wanted to lick her from head to toe. He imagined lurching from the water and scooping her up, spinning around to sit her on the ledge of the hot tub and shoving her thighs wide.
Devouring her pussy until an orgasm ripped through her.
Of course, then he’d just have to do it all over again until he was sated.
